Have you ever watched a bird fly? Actually take off, push off the ground with all its force and having complete faith that its wings will carry it all the way to its destination, that it may not even have intended to fly to. Completely brave and adventurous. I have always admired this ability in the world. I craved that liberation the same way a starved dog craves food. I had a debilitating fear of flying. Putting trust in the pilot, a person I had never met. Where did he go to school? How old is he? Why did he choose to fly for his career? I was petrified to let the world have the ability to dictate whether I live or die. I’ve asked questions my whole life. The questions stemmed from fear and curiosity, a love lust for the world and it’s many marvels.
As I looked out the blurry window, I imagined what my life would have been like if I was as brave as I wanted to be. What if I could trust the world? As the plane takes off, the people on board watch the world begin to shrink. So do their issues that were born in the life they left below.
I caught the last plane from JFK. My first flight, alone. The one thing I know is that I need to get away. What does a seventeen year old girl do after a heartbreak? Is it dyeing your hair pink? Or have an impromptu vacation from the hell I was living in. This could be good for me. Maybe I can clear my head. California sounds like the place to go to “find yourself”. Maybe I’ll become a hippie. Who knows?
As I sit here I am constantly haunted by the image of him with her. When I close my eyes, I can see that face. The way he looked at me. I ran through all the steps from that day in my head, over and over trying to understand what happened. When I got to his campus I texted his mom for the door number of his dorm and went up to the RA that sat behind the half circle desk. It had that gray fake marble granite that my mom used to have on our counter when I was growing up. He had short black hair that shined more than mine, the kind of shine that was so natural that guys didn’t deserve it. The same with their eyelashes. He had clear blue crystal eyes that popped up when I approached the front desk to the building. The kind of eyes that made me trust him even though I didn’t know him. I told him that I intended to surprise Ethan for our two year anniversary.
The RA scanned the door open for me, I thanked him with nothing but pure excitement. I pushed open the door and dropped my duffle bag to the floor. When I walked in I couldn’t believe what I saw. I closed my eyes and all I thought was, “It’s a nightmare, wake up.”After I opened my eyes the second time I realized that I was actually seeing what I thought I saw. Ethan was raised up on top of some girl. Her legs wrapped around his back like vines on the ceiling. I knew it was him by his dirty blonde hair and the birthmark on his back that was shaped like the crescent moon. It took them a few seconds to even notice that the door was open. Once the bag hit the floor, the moaning stopped.
Finally a blonde head popped up over his shoulder and threw him off. Then smack on the ground landed a condom. I wanted to do so many things at this moment. I was enraged, heartbroken, sad and lost. I grabbed my bag, looked him in the eyes and threw the promise ring he gave me right next to the small condom on the floor. I turned and slammed the door behind me. Tears started flooding down my face. As I was making my way out of the lobby doors I felt a hand grab my shoulder and spin me around. Ethan’s eyes were filled with water and before I could let him get out how he’s sorry or he regrets it, I turned and kept walking.
I scanned the plane, picking out the interesting people on board. As I was wrapping my dirty blonde curls up in my classic messy bun, I saw this boy. A peculiar boy. He seemed to be about six or seven based on his size in that big faded blue plush chair. He sat next to me on the plane and he had the most adorable freckles that matched his auburn hair. His freckles looked like the sun had kissed every tiny spot on his face. On my other side was this woman with the kindest eyes. The kind where you could see her soft pink loving heart. I watched the ants on the ground as the wind swept up the gigantic bird with such ease, as if this huge monsterous plane was a leaf caught in the gust of wind. The plane shook as my head slowly pressed harder against the seat. My body sank into it as the world slowly became smaller and smaller. It was so beautiful to think that all the problems down there weren’t so big up here.
Boom. Shake. Smash. Turbulence. It came and went, like every other flight, but something was different. My stomach dropped when I saw the stewardess rush to the cockpit, followed by the other flight attendants. My nerves were firing off like someone was shooting every nerve in my body with tiny bolts of electricity. My mind went to a place of uncontrollable panic. All of a sudden I felt the pressure suffocating me, like someone had their hands around my neck. Then the plane tipped forward. Immediately, the masks of oxygen fell in front of us and I turned to make sure the boy put the yellow mask over his face. As I was getting mine on, the plane dropped and I smacked my head on the seat in front of me. Throbbing pain radiated throughout my skull. I tried with all my strength to put on my mask, but the plane wasn’t stable enough and my head was spinning. The woman next to me put the mask on and gave me a kind smile, which in the moment, was the only thing that made me feel that maybe we could survive this. I gripped the arm rest as tears began to flood my eyes as rapidly as a river. I grabbed the boys hand and squeezed as we jolted forward. The plane dropped faster and faster until I watched the front of the plane break off and fall before me. It looked like when my little brother would snap his toy planes to make them “go faster.” The boy put the mask over his tiny nose and took a deep breath. I closed my eyes, braced myself to leave the world I knew.
Crack. Crack. Smack. Scream. I opened my eyes slowly. Amazed and confused as to what happened. Where am I? Was it a dream? A sick joke? Above me the sky was white and blank. There was nothing, no life, no color, nothing. I turned my head slowly and looked at the broken tapestry around me. Bodies filled the field like a sea of red and pain. I slowly rose and found a group of people rummaging through the damage. Ripping the living from the dead. I heard a symphony of children screaming and people crying. I scanned the field and tried to lift myself up when I realized I couldn't move my left arm. I could see my bone. Poking out at me, staring into my eyes. I took off my belt from what was left of my white wash jeans and took off my flannel and wrapped the flannel around the remainder of my left arm. Then I put my belt over my flannel and pulled the belt tight to stop the bleeding.
I refused to look as I attempted to navigate through the bodies before me. I stumbled to my feet and spotted what I thought to be a little red head. It was the boy who sat next to me on the plane. He had his hand over his eye and wouldn’t move, still as a board. He didn’t make a sound. Shock. I tried my best to keep my voice calm and kind, “H-hi. My name is Spencer. I sat next to you on the plane. Can I see your eye?” He nodded his head, indicating yes. He was skeptical, afraid to trust me. He slowly removed his hand and then I saw how he had a shard of glass from the window coming out of his eye socket. I knew I should have taken the window seat from him. I turned and moved his head around to see the damage and see if I could help in any way.
Do not pull it out. Do not pull it out. “ Everything is going to be alright okay? Don’t worry, I am going to try to find help okay? No matter what you do, do not touch your eye, okay?” I turned around and watched. It was a horror film. I could never have imagined the horror that I saw. The worst possible thing I could imagine was happening. There was a man in what was left of a gray faded suit. There was blood coming from his ankle. I could see it because he was ripping off the bottom part of one of his pants so that he could wrap it around this woman's thigh. Maybe he was a doctor? I approached him and helped wrap the woman’s thigh. He smiled at me, afraid and kind of endearing.
“Are you a doctor?” I asked.
He responded with a confident, “I was an EMT for a good part of my life.”
He couldn’t be younger than forty five.
Then he introduced himself in a lighter tone, “I’m Sam, thank you for helping me. Are you okay?”
As he motioned toward my arm I quickly responded with, “I- I’m fine. Can you help me? This boy- he sat next to me on the plane. His-His eye is really messed up. He has glass-.” “Where? Where is he?” I grabbed his hand and dragged him through the mess to the boy. “Don’t look around. Okay, honey?” Sam said. I felt talked down to but it was sweet of him to try to protect me.
Sam introduced himself to the boy when all of a sudden- Screams. Crash. The plane exploded. I was thrown from the ground, propelled through the air. I smacked into a tree and landed on my side. I moaned and rolled around as I tried to get to my feet. I saw that what was left of the plane engine had exploded and threw me. The boy was on the floor, laying still, as I approached him. I couldn’t make out his body anymore, nothing was where it was supposed to be. He was gone, I didn’t even get to know his name. All of a sudden someone grabbed me, shoving me out of the way of incoming debris. It was Sam. Sam just saved my life, what was left of it. “We have to go!” As we were running for our lives, we spotted a few people gathering outside of some brush. They were just out of the way of the horror we just came from and not too far that people who survived didn’t know where to go. The yellow and green of the various plants that divided us from them was comforting, in a way. There were a couple survivors, all trying to hold each other up with every amount of strength they had left.
When I joined the group all I could think about was what had just happened. I have a hundred questions, zooming through my head like busy bees. I could only remember a few things, and I chose not to remember some. I knew I had to focus all my energy on one thing and one thing only: survival. I examined all of the survivors' injuries, ranking the strongest to the weakest. At this moment, I stopped asking the questions of curiosity and love but, I started to ask questions of survival and fear.
There was this girl on a rock with her knees brought to her chest, her head laying in the space between her knees. She was drenched in blood, head to toe. I watched her as she concentrated so intensely on the ground, I assumed she was in shock. I walked up to her slowly, almost as majestic as a lion approaching it’s prey through the grass. She looked at me and in her eyes I only saw one emotion. Sadness, a sadness that only accompany’s loss and guilt. I grabbed her hand and knelt down, to appear friendly and non-aggressive.
“Hi, I’m Spencer.” I said with every amount of concern and strength I had left.
“I-I’m Mona.” She studied me, from my light brown hair to the subtle scar I had on my nose to the freckles between my eyes.
“Are you okay Mona? Are you hurt?” She responded with a very faint,“No.”
I asked, “Were you traveling with anyone?”
After building up the courage she finally said a soft, “Y-Yes.”
The sadness overcame her. She broke. Mona pointed towards a young girl on the ground. “She was my little sister. When the plane went down she was above me checking on me when a piece of the plane went flying from the blast. I blinked and the next second she was down, she didn’t have a pulse anymore. I tried everything.” Her eyes got heavy and low. “Mona, how old was she?” She paused trying to find the words and put them together in her head. “She was seven. She danced. She was so pr-proud.” Mona chuckled and a smile grew across her face, instantly, it grew to tears. They flooded her eyes as if a dam had opened in her soul. “Grace, Grace was her name. God, my parents.”
Sam came to us and I introduced them. He brought both of us to the group and introduced us to some of the other survivors. Sam began to take charge, I guess it was the EMT in him, barking orders in a trauma. We were split into groups. A few of us would go and see if we could find anything around us. We were about three hours into our flight and we were in a field so we had to be around something. Some of us would rummage through the wreck. Some would stay put and support those who were traumatized. Sam thought it was best if I stayed and did nothing. I think he saw in my eyes that I was losing my hope, my strength. My stubborn side told him that was not going to work. I was okay and I wanted to help. I can not just sit there, I can not think about it and I can’t not help. After considerable arguing, I convinced Sam to let me help find things from the crash. He warned me that I was going to have to look at bodies and take things that were needed. He told the rest of us what we were looking for. Any medical supplies or medicine, any working forms of communication, and any clothing and shoes from the deceased.
Basically the necessities for survival. I looked out across the damage and took a big deep breath. I braced myself for what was coming. I felt a warm hand grab mine. He tangled his fingers with mine, like vines clinging to a building. It was Jack. Jack was about my age. He was traveling with his sister when the plane went down. We got assigned the same groups for the rumage, he was just as scared as I was. When we met he told me how he and his sister got in a fight before boarding and decided to sit separately. She broke off in the front part of the plane. No one has found that part of the plane. When he touched me, I felt better. I wasn’t alone anymore. Jack and I stayed connected as we migrated through the debris, floating from area to area in search of anything to help us.
We didn’t know how long we would be out here for. We didn’t even know where this field was? What state? We followed the same pattern for about a week. We searched. Tried to survive. On the fourth day, I lost Mona. Sam said she probably had an aneurysm which ruptured because she died after a seizure. I couldn’t eat for days and Jack wouldn’t leave my side, I think he was afraid of what I might do. To be honest, so was I. We talked about our past lives, the ones we missed and lost. Sam thought it was therapeutic, but it was more painful. How do they not know where we are?
Bang. Crack. Pop. It was one of the last of the dark nights of being stranded when we heard the only noise of hope we had. The trees shuffled as something smashed into the ground conducting the loudest symphony of noises I have ever heard. We decided that a couple of us would venture out at night and search for anyone or anything that could help us. Sam grabbed my arm and handed it to Jack. “Do not let her follow. Keep her here, keep her safe.” Jack grabbed my hand and pulled me away. I stayed put. I didn’t fight, I was losing my fight. Everyone left. It was just me and Jack. I watched the woods, staring into the trees and the darkness behind it. Peering from the woods, I saw figures moving rapidly towards the camp. At first I feared that it was an animal, so I alerted Jack. We climbed into the makeshift tents that we had made from clothes of the dead, waiting for the figures to reveal themselves.
Sam came running from the woods carrying two bodies. I ran towards him as he laid down the bodies and headed back into the woods. “Sam! Sam! What should I do? Sam!” He was already gone. Jack rushed to me as we both knelt down to these two blonde twin girls. They were moaning and rolling around in pain. A sound to break a soul. We looked to see if they had any wounds or injuries that we could access. One of the girls had a deep cut on her head and was holding her stomach tightly while the other clearly had a broken leg. It appeared as though the leg was already severed from the rest of her body, dangling like a loose tooth ready to be plucked.
Groups of people herded out of the woods, carrying more bodies. More cries were calling out from the unknown of the wilderness. Sam came back and stayed this time, he was carrying a man who had no left leg, he had a t-shirt and a tie wrapped around his new stump. I looked at Sam concerned and afraid. “What the hell happened out there?” Sam frantically responded, “Uh-um well, the front part of the plane was dangling from the trees about six miles south of here. One of the pieces of the wing fell, that’s what we heard. I got everyone I could find, Spencer, I did. There wasn’t enough time, so many bodies.” I looked out and saw about fifteen new bodies scattered throughout the field. I looked for Jack and spotted him on the other side of the scene. He was bent over a girl's body.
All I could see was long dirty blonde hair, almost the same color as Jack’s. She was young, about ten years old, and was wearing a yellow shirt and what appeared to be once blue pants. He had his face pressed against her chest, gripping her shirt as tight as he could with the strength he had left. She wasn’t moving. I rushed through the crowd to get to him. Jack was screaming, “Isobel, Isobel! Why? God Damnit, W-why?” She had a head injury that made the side of her head look like someone bashed it with a bat and a cut across the lower part of her stomach, she was barely put together. It was his sister. Dead. I knelt down beside him and wrapped him in my arms. “I’m-I’m so sorry Jack, I’m so sorry.” He made a sound of pain, I hope no one ever has to endure in their lifetime.
Lights came from overhead, this white light was my turn and I was next to go. Jack slowly looked up which meant he saw the light too. I raised my head, trying not to get my hopes up when a helicopter began to descend from the horror that was the sky. The second crash must have been the sound they needed to find us. The rescue team dropped down and scooped up the remains of who was still managing to breathe. I closed my eyes and all I could see was all the bodies, I could practically smell the fuel that burned our skin once we hit the dreadful ground, all I could hear was the animals ravaging through the bodies at night and all I could think about was the boy with the red hair, Isobel, and Mona.
Jack saw me begin to cry which made him intertwine his thin fingers in mine. I fell into him. I started to think about why this happened. Why did so many people have to die? Did I become brave? Did I survive? Yes, I am alive but did my personality, who I am, did I survive? I looked up at Jack, he kissed me on the forehead, so lightly, then he said something I never thought I would hear, “We’re going home.”
